Peripeteia
by synedoche
Summary: A shooting star crashes onto the desert landscape of the ravaged planet of Dantooine, a planet once rumored to be the sacred teaching grounds of an ancient order now believed to have vanished without a trace. A story arc following "Bastila's Lament."
1. new beginnings

(note: this is a story meant to fill in between the prologue and epilogue of "Bastila's Lament", please read that first. Otherwise, this fanfic probably won't make much sense:)

Teia sits slouched against the wall of his home outside, not terribly mindful of his watchman duties. The night is dark, with sparse stars dotting the open sky. The young man occasionally picks at his hair, wondering out loud to himself, among other things, to pass the time:

"Who does she think she is, coming out of nowhere to lecture us like school kids?

In a sarcastic tone, Teia elaborates in mock imitation of the woman's voice: "No that's not right Teia, no Teia don't do that, good grief, Teia, don't you know what a power coupling is? One of these days I ought to tell her what the whole village thinks of her. That'll shut her up, if only for a few minutes."

"Yes miss Bastila, why of course I'll take the night shift in case those imaginary mandalorian raiders show up again. Don't worry, I won't need to rest or anything, so long as I have your silent approval! I mean why let a droid to do his job when you can get a living person to do it?"

Teia sneers, wishing suddenly for an emergency to occur: "Well you have my word, that if anything happens, I'll come right away to your underground dome to wake you up right away!"

Having run out of immediate complaints, Teia quietly dozes off, his head slipping closer and closer to the stone wall.

A shooting star falls slowly from the night sky. It burns brighter and brighter, until finally the small settlement of Dantooine's former enclave is lit with a glow as bright as the sun for a few flashing moments. A series of distant beeps and clicks echo from its descent, though only discernable by those listening for it.

The glow wakes Teia, who catches himself just as his head is about to hit the hard rock.

"Whoa…what in Dantooine's name-" The young man stares into the night sky for a few minutes, mesmerized by the sight of a star falling from the sky.

"I better take this to the village elder. That shooting star could be the sign I need to start my trials and finally get off this mud ball of a planet."

Teia hesitates as he remembers the promise he made to Bastila as night watchman.

"Should I tell her? Mandalorians technically could have crash landed. But my sign of action! I've got to take this to the elder."

Teia stops himself, wavering for a moment: "Alright fine Bastila, but only because I want to ruin your night!"

The young man takes off into the dark night, a mischievous smirk on his face.

Bastila sits in a meditation pose, her eyes closed in thought and contemplation. Her brown hair shines against the small flame candle sitting on a nearby table. She is in her remote home near the former enclave of the Jedi, a small dwelling enclosed by a domed ceiling. Around her are her sparse belongings; her tan robe atop a worn table, a Spartan bed made of straw. Her old lightsaber sits on the table, a relic of past glory and betrayal.

"Bastila! Something's happened! I came quickly as I could! I saw-"

Bastila's eyes open and stare calmly into the distance. Without turning her head, she speaks:

"Young Teia. Good evening. First of all, please use the correct title when addressing your elders. I know you are unfamiliar with pleasantries, but you are not unfamiliar to manners, I take it?"

An impatient expression appears on Teia's face as he rolls his eyes slightly: "Yes _Miss_ Bastila, good evening to you as well. I saw a shooting star just now! So bright it woke me u-I mean it was, uh loud and bright! I noticed right away as I was standing guard."

Bastila takes note of Teia's slip, for a moment amused at his careless youth. Then she turns to him and asks, "Was it just a shooting star? Or perhaps a ship that burned up in the atmosphere?

"That I can't tell. I couldn't manage to use my scope in time to view it properly. But I just wanted to let you know, as per my duties," Teia speaks quickly, hoping to leave soon and get a good night's sleep.

"Do you know where it was headed?"

"Ah B-Miss Bastila, it's a bit hard to chase a falling star. I'm not sure where-"

"Don't play coy, Teia. What kind of star is bright and loud?" Bastila rhetorically asks. Teia, ever the absent minded loud mouth, tries to answer: "The kind that will get the elders to-"

"The kind made of machinery sending distress beacons, that's what kind. Come outside and show me the direction it was headed, young man," Bastila says curtly as she rises up from the ground.

Teia sighs and prepares for a long night as he follows Bastila's lead.

"See? Just a heap of junk. I mean it could've been here since…"

Bastila refuses to respond to Teia's boorish excuse to return to bed. She looks upon the smoldering wreckage that landed less than an hour ago, brow slightly furrowed in thought, a frown curving her lips.

"Somebody found the survivor before us. Hm. Perhaps they were expecting him," Bastila reasons, staring at the empty cockpit of the crumpled star fighter.

"Maybe he escaped and is currently seeking medical treatment," Teia offers a dose of dry wit.

"Look at the drag marks in the dirt. He was clearly unconscious," Bastila impatiently replies with a small hint of worry in her voice.

Teia quietly admits this overlooked evidence to himself as he crouches down to his knees and examines, against the burning embers of the wreckage, two sets of prints made by a pair of legs dragged away from the smashed glass of the cockpit.

"Hey, wait! We can follow these tracks! Bastila! We can-" Teia stands abruptly and turns to see Bastila already walking fast toward the direction of the tracks away from the crashed fighter, several feet ahead of him.

Teia catches up to Bastila, who leans on one leg looking into the distance, darkness all around her.

"The marks stop here. But…" Bastila pauses to give young Teia a chance to investigate the marks himself.

"But…we should still care about the unfortunate soul who probably needs urgent medical attention?"

Bastila stares at Teia with a blank expression. Then, "Which is why we need to follow the tracks made by the sand crawler that carried him and his rescuers away. Look here, just a distance from the leg tracks."

Bastila gestures at another set of tracks, this time made by large tires.

"Aw but it's…so dark! How can we even see anything beyond this ship?" Teia whines even as he follows Bastila down the set of tracks.

"Will this help?" The flash and hum of a sword made of light suddenly commands all of Teia's attention. The blue aurora surrounds Bastila as the tip of her blade extends slowly toward her face, bathing their surroundings with a supernatural glow that spreads far beyond the mere cylindrical handle of the lightsaber.

"Whoa…" Teia's senses are filled with a force far greater than himself. "I have never seen a flashlight like that."

"Young Teia. You have much to learn about the world," Bastila speaks with the authority of an experienced warrior and the hint of a smile as she lectures the surprised young man before her. "And now you must decide."

"Decide? What choice is there?" Teia speaks with a serious tone for the first time.

"Will you follow me? You may go back if you wish. I sense great evil present." Bastila turns to the tracks with her lightsaber in hand, standing upright like an oak. "There is no rest for the wicked, nor for those in its pursuit."

Teia looks into the eyes of a seasoned warrior and for the first time, affords her proper respect: "No choice to be made. I can't let you wander off on your own. We'll be safer together."

In the darkness, the only visible illumination coming from the hue of a sword made of light, Teia glimpses the rare smile of Bastila Shan, the mysterious visitor to his remote village, a stranger no more.


	2. darkness before

The pair wander along the dark landscape, the only light coming from Bastila's lightsaber. For an hour or so the two walk on in silence, focused on the task at hand. But suddenly, a whisper from Bastila and a hand held up in front of the young man-

"Stop. I sense sentient life nearby. We'll have to on without the light, lest they discover us."

"But-"

"Here. Take my hand and follow my lead quietly," Bastila says as she extends her hand."

Teia and Bastila sneak quietly into a makeshift camp of transport ships, carriers, and trucks which provide a crude circular perimeter, the center of which lie several tents and a single bonfire in the middle.

It is dead quiet.

"Something is wrong. There is obviously a large presence of some sort here. Yet…" Bastila puts a finger on her lips, perplexed.

"Place is quiet as a funeral. Don't even see anyone standing guard," Teia speculates out loud.

"Should we go in?"

"No. We must wait here and observe. The darkness shall benefit us as well as them. We don't know how many of them there are, or even who they are," Bastila commands.

"Hmph." Teia shows unusual restraint and stuffs his complaints down his throat.

Minutes pass, then an hour. Then two. Teia slouches on a tree, eyes weighing heavier and heavier, falling asleep for the second time in the night. Then, the distinct ping of a blaster bolt interrupts hours of complete silence in the dead of night.

"Quickly, Teia! Wake up and follow me!" Bastila urges, pulling up the drowsy man by the back of his robe.

"Whas…whats going on?" Teia rubs his eyes reluctantly, shaking his head as though dizzy.

"Mercenaries, possibly Mandalorian raiders. If my instincts are correct, these mercenaries have walked into the fight of their lives." Bastila grimly smiles as the entire camp suddenly whines with a loud pitched alarm.

"Good riddance. Well that settles that, then. Let's get back and uh…and-" Teia, still drowsy, wishes for his bed more than ever.

"Don't be dense, young man. We'll use the distraction of the firefight to sneak into the camp and find out where they're keeping the survivor," Bastila impatiently explains while in the distance indiscernible shouts of battle fill the air.

The middle of the camp is lit ablaze with a huge bonfire visible from miles away. Bastila and Teia approach it with caution as they edge step by step through the transport, vehicles and tents.

"Wait a minute. I see-that's elder Varice standing in the middle! What in the blazes is he doing in a camp like this?" Teia rhetorically asks disbelievingly. An elder man in simple tan robes stands near the fire, arms folded and an impatient expression on his face.

"I suspect we shall find out soon enough," Bastila grimly replies as she eyes the corpses of several Mandalorian raiders being carried through the air, by invisible figures.

"They're using stealth shielding devices! My father told me about those, they're unheard of in Dantooine-" Teia enthusiastically deducts, forgetting for the moment their dangerous situation.

"Never mind that, Teia. Think. Why would an elder of your village be here, unrestrained and of his own volution, in a camp made up of off-worlders?" Bastila lectures the young man.

"No…" Teia realizes the implications of his mentor's questions.

"Let's get closer and hear what he has to say. Careful to hug the walls and move quiet as you can," Bastila tells Teia calmly.

"To the wise and all powerful Sith emperor, I bring you a gift as an offer of my sincerity: My village of Peripe, a strong concave located near former Jedi grounds. You may use it as you wish, and I shall assure you its inhabitants shall greet your men as saviors," Elder Varice speaks with flattery dripping from his speech like honey.

"Excellent, wise elder of Dantooine. We have reason to believe that this former enclave of the Jedi, though by now rid of the menace of the Jedi, still may harbor useful artifacts of sorts. Await further instructions from our great Emperor as I make contact with him soon," A large figure with broad, muscled shoulders steps out of his tall tent to address the Elder. All around him, figures in battle armor appear out of thin air, stealth fields deactivated. Every single Sith is holding a sword.

"And what of the unidentified pilot of the crashed star fighter?" Elder Varice asks in a business-like fashion.

"He will be sorted out; we'll just have to find a proper use for him in the Sith empire, won't we?" The Sith colonel addresses his men, who respond with hoots of cruel laughter.

Teia grits his teeth: "That, that pompous, backstabbing, unconscionable old man! He sold all of us out! And here I thought the falling star was a sign of luck. We've got to get back soon as we can to warn the others-"

"Now's not the time for rage, Teia, righteous though it may be. We've got to rescue that pilot before the Sith enslave him. Then we'll go back and warn-Teia, what are you doing!" Bastila whispers loudly as the determined Teia rushes along the walls of the camp, heading toward the direction of his old village Peripe.

Bastila watches, dread and agony filling her stomach, as Teia begins to run from the camp. Then, inevitably, a deep, loud voice speaks slowly: "And it appears we are not alone, Varice."

The sith Colonel's amusement shows in his battle scarred face, unhooded before the bonfire.

"Bring him before me."

A few minutes later, a struggling Teia is brought before the audience of Sith soldiers.

"You worthless pile of wampa dung!" Teia attempts to gather enough spit to hurl at his former village Elder, but only manages a feeble raspberry as his Sith handlers drop him at the bonfire. His left eye is swollen shut, a cut above his cheek.

Elder Varice stands perfectly still, hands held together in front of his robes. "Young Teia. Stubborn as a mule, and just as annoying to match. A potent combination for nuisance."

"I take it you two are acquainted?" the Sith Colonel smirks as he shifts his weight to one leg.

"Just a worthless runt. We can't let him leave unfortunately," Varice speaks with the icy tone of a judge condemning a prisoner.

"Shall I indulge young Teia one last time before we return to the task at hand?" Varice asks with deference to his Sith master.

"Don't take too long. The attack must occur before sunrise."

"Alright then, young Teia. Son of Eliah, and the two hundred and thirteenth recorded generation of the original clan of Dantooine's followers. Want to know why I'm here? What sort of things were going through my mind as I betrayed this village, and soon this entire planet?"

Well it's quite simple. This planet is backwards. One war after another thanks to the republic has stripped this planet of all its feasible resources. No leadership besides the meddling Jedi to guide us. And when they left, the mercenaries and warlords pillaged this entire planet of everything. Soon Dantooine's planet shall lose its ability to sustain life. I do not intend to sit idly by and observe with the other Elders any longer. We must act, and indeed the Sith have the initiative to take charge here rather than the bureaucratic Republic, tangled as it is in innumerable knots."

"I found this solution, the only viable solution, to save Dantooine. But keep this in mind, Peripeteia, Teia of the village of Peripe. The ends justify the means, and it is always darkest before dawn. Dantooine shall live on, regardless of who rules or how."

"I'm finished. Goodbye Teia, I know history shall be cruel to me, as will you. But I care not. You are a tragedy that embodies the eventual fate of this stubborn, backwards planet, and if you are the sacrifice that shall enable change, then so be it." Varice turns his head into the distance, indifferent.

The sith handlers approach Teia with a length of rope. They tie his hands behind his back and then kick his knees from the back, leaving him to support himself on his two kneecaps on the ground, his head held high defiantly.

"Hey Varice, wanna know something about that time you lost that sacred parchment of your awards and accomplishments? Well I know what happened to it. Was a fine piece of toilet paper," Teia, despite the pain laughs boldly. A sith guard hits him squarely in the jaw, prompting him to fall down into the ground with a loud thud.

"Alright, you heard Varice, let's end this and begin the attack. Pick the runt up and execute him," The colonel impatient waves his hand at the fallen Teia.

"Ah the idiot is unconscious, the guy hit him too hard!" The executioner whines with disappointment, like a child who received unwelcome gifts on his birthday.

"No matter. One clean stroke ought to be enough," The colonel continues.

"Alright, then. No last words for you, unfortunately." The cruel Sith executioner raises his sharp blade directly over his head, pausing for dramatic effect. Then he swings down with all his might.

A brilliant hue of blue suddenly appears, as if to combat the blazing bonfire in the center. The executioner's blade never makes it to Teia's neck, having been sliced in half with one deft stroke.

Bastila stands in battle stance, her lightsaber at her side, a look of calm on her face, shining with a blue aurora.

The rest of the sith platoon stand in awe and shock, most of them rookies who've never seen a Jedi in person.

"My, my. What have we here? A gem in the rough?" The sith colonel taunts, though with a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"Elder Varice. Your reasoning is faulty, and thus your predicted outcome shall not come to fruition," Bastila lectures the bitter Varice, his eyes refusing to meet Bastila's.

"The sith pride themselves on dominance. It is their way. No mercy shall be given to anyone left on this planet. What little remains shall only go to fuel the Sith war effort. And you, as an experienced historian, I am sure you know all of this. Quite simply put, you have no altruistic intentions at all. You are simply a greedy, desperate and selfish man," Bastila struggles to read Varice's expressions, to little success.

"It matters no longer whether you are right or wrong, Bastila. Your fate will be no different than young Teia's, just as Dantooine's shall be no different," the Elder speaks with conviction and the tone of a man who has experienced much hardship.

"I think not, Varice. The little runt is disposable. But This Jedi would be far more useful alive to my master," The sith colonel interrupts Varice's conversation with Bastila.

"Finish him. Only knock the woman unconscious. The one to do this shall receive an instant promotion and credit to be reported to the Emperor himself."

The sith guards approach Bastila cautiously, step by step as they look at one another, afraid to be the first to attack. Bastila stands waiting, closing her eyes in a brief meditation before opening them again.

An ambitious Sith steps forward to deliver the first blow. Bastila raises her blade to slice it in two.

"Idiot. Switch to your vibroblades, the Jedi has a lightsaber!" The sith colonel shouts.

Suddenly a thermal detonator erupts in the middle of the fray. The huge explosion sends many sith soldiers flying through the air.

"Ambush! Battle positions!" The sith Colonel orders as he points to the soldiers still conscious, his red armor blending in with the huge bonfire. Varice covers his ears and attempts to make himself as small a target as possible, kneeling on the ground in fear. Bastila stands ready, waving the smoke of the explosion away from her face and watching out for the new attackers.

Several mandalorian warriors emerge from out of the darkness, professional soldiers aiming their advanced blasters with pinpoint precision at the remaining Sith.

"So. The raiders we defeated earlier were only a scouting force. A distraction for the rest to sneak into camp," The colonel surmises to himself.

"No, actually the scouting force was a couple of programmed battle droids. Flesh is worth much more than metal when it comes to combat effectiveness," the voice of the battle hardened Mandalore, formerly known as Canderous Ordo, emerges from just behind the surprised Sith colonel.

"You thought a party of mandalorian raiders could have gone down that easily? Typical Sith arrogance, an underestimation that will cost you your life, I'm afraid," Mandalore concludes.

The two men stare at one another, one through the helmet of the legendary Mandalore, the other through eyes reflecting the bonfire's intense color. The two are arms' length away, and pause for a brief moment before the fight begins.


	3. flames

The quick draw of Mandalore is both practiced and elaborate. The imposing figure in full traditional mandalorian battle armor, the battle scarred armor set that denotes full leadership of all the mandalorian clans, raises both arms and stretches out the fingers of his right hand carefully, knuckles crackling. Mandalore quickly extends his left hand in front, drawing back his right hand toward his holster.

"No more games, cowardly scum. We have more urgent matters to attend to," The Sith colonel boasts as he draws his vibroblade from his back in one swift motion.

All around are the sounds of battle. Mandalorian heavy blasters meet energy shields nonstop, flash grenades go off all around the bonfire. The sith troopers are cut down one by one, with very few if any Mandalorian casualties.

"It's customary for two duelists to introduce one another before entering combat according to Mandalore," Canderous speaks with pride.

"How about I introduce you to my vibroblade?" The colonel shouts as he aggressively charges toward Mandalore.

In a flash, Mandalore draws his heavy blaster and squeezes off a single shot. The colonel is unfazed because he has activated his personal energy shield, but then realizes that his opponent was not aiming at him.

"What in the-" A small explosion temporarily blinds the colonel as the energy cell next to him, stacked for use in the tents, bursts into plasma from Canderous's well-placed shot.

The colonel rubs his eyes but finds that Canderous has all but disappeared.

"That energy shield of yours won't protect you forever. And you call me the coward?" Mandalore addresses his prey from out of the darkness. The bonfire blazes in the open as the camp continues to thunder with blaster fire and vibroblade strikes.

"When I catch you, scum, I'll make you beg for death!" The colonel waves a fresh gust of smoke away from his face.

"Come and get me."

The colonel, blinded by the smoke, charges toward the direction of the voice recklessly. Mandalore stands impassively on the other side of the bonfire as the Sith colonel blunders through it, furious as the flames.

"There's a good kath hound," Mandalore smirks as he selects a gas grenade and calmly lobs it in the direction of the fire. The result is tremendous as the entire camp blazes for a few seconds from the sudden ignition of the bonfire.

The sith Colonel walks through the fire, energy shield flickering as he gropes for the path to Canderous.

"Do not underestimate the power…of the dark side." The rage streaks within his bloody eyes as he walks through the flames, slowly, deliberately, as though enhanced by it.

He raises an arm slowly, dropping his vibroblade as he clenches his teeth. "The power of flimsy blades and blasters, is nothing. Compared to the Force."

The colonel is finally clear of the flames, facing Mandalore with yellow pupiled eyes. With his raised arm he forms a fist, his hateful mouth forming a crude, cruel grin.

"I shall earn my lightsaber for this…" The sith Colonel draws upon the dark side of the force to choke the mighty Mandalorian warrior. Canderous's feet rise to the ground as he struggles against a force crushing his windpipe into a straw's width.

The sith colonel force pushes Canderous into a box of supplies near a tent far away from the bonfire, which has died down considerably. The last of the Sith troopers are putting up a last ditch defense in a tent not far away, while the Mandalorian raiders await their opportunity.

"How does it feel to be skinned alive? Do tell me before you die, won't you?" The colonel's cruelty seems to manifest itself in his face, a frightful mix of jagged edges and piercing eyes. He approaches Mandalore, paralyzed by a force power, with the calm of a beast walking toward wounded prey.

Canderous grunts in pain and frustration. He struggles in vain, body twitching every which way. The colonel reaches him and kneels down. "Let's have a proper look at you. Get to know each other before we go our separate ways," The colonel mercilessly taunts as he removes the legendary helmet.

"You've…lost. Look around. How many Sith…left standing?" Canderous grunts, every syllable an arduous effort.

"The Force is with me. I need nothing else!" The colonel raises his two arms in preparation to perform the Force lightning power, a power he has not yet been able to use.

A slow, feeble stream of lightning strikes Canderous. But soon it thunders into a full fledged lightning storm, fueled by the Colonel's immense hatred of his foe.

Canderous struggles to keep his eyes open and face his opponent as he convulses in pain.

"Ultimate! Power!" The Sith colonel laughs maniacally as he becomes one with the dark side of the force. But suddenly-

A flash of blue, unnoticed by the ambitious colonel amid the torrent of lightning. But in a moment, the colonel feels something wrong. He pauses in thought, then fades into darkness.

Bastila holds her lighsaber sideways, having cleanly sliced into the colonel's head, instantly decapitating him. The lifeless body topples over, the heavy thud signifying defeat. The hateful head lies facedown in the dirt.

"About time, woman. You have anything better to do in the meantime?" Canderous asks his former comrade at arms.

"Yes I did, actually. Unconscious people can't run away very easily, as I'm sure you know. I had to quickly drag a young man away from the fighting to save him. That little stunt you pulled by lobbing the gas grenade into the fire would have scalded him alive," Bastila retorts matter of factly.

"Wonderful to see you too, Bastila. So why are you here? I have a feeling we're both looking for the same thing," Canderous gets down to business, getting up and putting Mandalore's helmet back on.

"No thanks for saving your life? I would have though leadership would have taught you a few things about gratitude, Canderous," Bastila smirks as she catches up with a fellow companion of Revan.

"Well then you can thank me for risking my life to wear down that Sith warrior's energy shield. Not even a lightsaber could have gotten through, not with one stroke," Mandalore states as he surveys the battle situation carefully.

"Looking for Revan? He is no longer who you remember him to be," Bastila turns to Canderous with a determined face.

"He bested the greatest of our clan and scattered them. Then he ordered me to gather the shattered pieces. I have done so, and seek his guidance."

"The Revan we knew is gone. As is his power," Bastila warns.

"In my experience, nobody changes. We all eventually become who we were born to be," Mandalore states.

"But enough talk. Let's go find that pilot."

The two make their way into the last bastion of the Sith tents, the only remaining Sith troopers holed up in a bunker awaiting the mercenaries with their blasters.

"Mandalorians! Rally to your leader!" Mandalore holds up his right arm in a fist, shouting with a booming voice that echos in the distance.

The small group of Mandalorians appear from out of the darkness and into the light of the bonfire slowly, expertly disguised completely from the naked eye before in cover.

"Fett. What's the situation? Give me a casualty report. Any stragglers?" Mandalore demands of his approaching lieutenant.

"Mandalore, my lord. Sixteen currently wounded with minor vibroblade scratches. Three in critical care being attended to, first degree burns. One missing, not yet found," Fett notes with detachment.

"What about the crashed pilot? Are you sure this is the place the star fighter crashed from the Ebon Hawk's last known trajectory on this planet?"

"Yes, my lord. There were no bigger objects entering the atmosphere as we scanned this planet. We were very lucky to have detected the Ebon Hawk's fresh hyperspace departure trail within the hour. But we haven't found him yet. We're still working on the last defense the remaining Sith have put up," Fett responds without emotion.

"Alright. Good work. Why hasn't the last defense fallen yet? Are they using heavy turrets?" Mandalore inquires.

"Our warriors have tried to enter the narrow entrance without success. Stealth fields are somehow neutralized by a special scanner of some sort. They have employed plasma weapons, of which have caused over sixty percent of our casualties so far. In short, it is currently suicidal to enter that tent," Fett answers.

"And so we wait? No mandalorian awaits for victory, Fett." Mandalore scolds his lieutenant, and indirectly his men, listening with rapt attention.

"Wait. What about the Elder? Has anybody seen a frail old man in brown robes near the bonfire?" Bastila suddenly asks.

"Who are you talking about? No matter, we need to take the last Sith out before they call for backup and make our lives much-" Mandalore pauses in surprised scrutiny.

A lone figure suddenly walks out of the fortified tent, holding a cloth over his face, coughing uncontrollably. Behind him a cloud of green, noxious gas floats forebodingly.

"Revan…" Mandalore whispers into the night air.

The man formerly known as Revan stumbles into full view of the Mandalorians, what remains of the night bonfire lighting up his features.

The seasoned warriors stand in awe and respect of their former conqueror. They stand at attention, their weapons folded neatly into their arms.

Bastila rushes to the stumbling man, dressed in the casual fashion of a smuggler. "Where am I?" The mysterious stranger asks as he turns his head several times.

"Wha-who are you? No get off, my clothes are reeking with that gas!" He tells the woman hugging him, quietly laughing with relief.

"The question is, who are _you?"_ Bastila disengages to face her former love.

"Wha-well I asked first. Last thing I remember was going to a port on Dantooine for some business, next thing I wake up to is blaster fire in my tent."

"You were kidnapped by the Sith and brought to their camp," Bastila patiently explains.

"How did you escape just now? Are there any Sith in the camp left?" Canderous asks Revan.

"Well I woke up and felt my hand pressing on a gas grenade by accident. The effect was rather detrimental to the morale of the soldiers stationed near my bed, I expect," the stranger responds.

"You knocked all of them unconscious by accident?" Mandalore wonders incredulously. 

"Yeah, pretty much. Scoundrel's luck I suppose," the reborn smuggler answers casually.

"This the pilot we wandered half the night to find? Doesn't look like much," comes the groggy voice of Teia, recently awaken from his pleasant nap.

"Teia, good! We won't have to carry you back to the village. Hurry now, we must be quick to find Elder Varice. His alliance with the Sith has brought dire danger to this entire planet, and we must act quickly to save it," Bastila lectures the crowd.

The mysterious stranger stands in front of the vast audience, flame smoldering as the dawn approaches. He lets go of the piece of cloth covering his face, revealing an expression of bewilderment.


End file.
